Brothers Through Fire
by phild89
Summary: Follows Shepard and Joker, begins before the start of ME3, flashes back to their first meeting as children and follows each as their stories intertwine. It's basically my effort to give some backstory to both characters. Please review and comment! Always open to suggestions. Also looking for a beta, so message me if you are interested.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Crew records show today is the 30th anniversary of your birth," EDI said from her speakers in Normandy's bridge. Joker looked up from the diagnostics he was running on the ship's trim thrusters. He'd noticed the slightest bit of yaw as they docked in one of the Citadel's private bays, and wanted to be sure that his baby was running flawlessly.

"Ah geez EDI, you just had to remind me, didn't you?" he said as he covered his face with his hand, "don't you have something else to do? Play Legion in Pong, or something?" EDI had recently developed a bit of an addiction to Earth's classic computer games.

"Legion and I are currently engaged in our two thousand, three hundred, and fifty seventh game of Pong of the day," EDI said pointedly. "I have also downloaded C-Sec's classified records since we've last visited the Citadel, in addition to reprogramming our cyberwarfare systems with countermeasures for the latest batarian cruisers which I discovered in STG files." Joker rolled his eyes and turned back to the holographic screens in front of his seat. EDI persisted. If she could smirk, she would be now.

"Humans tradition dictates that well wishes are delivered by friends and relatives, as well as the presentation of gifts and the consummation of sugar coated bread products. I have not observed this behavior in the past 24 standard hours from any crewmember."

She was right, unfortunately. It was two weeks after Shepard had once again thwarted the Reaper's plans. Destroying the Alpha relay bought them perhaps a few more months of time to warn the galaxy of the greatest threat to intelligent life they'd ever encounter. Shepard had come to the Citadel to once more attempt to convince the Council to believe that this threat was real. It was almost pointless, but it was a last ditch attempt to convince the galactic powers of the impending doom before heading to Earth to stand trial.

"Shall I send a reminder to Shepard's terminal?"

"Nahhh, you don't think grunts like Shepard can actually_ read_ anything, do you?"

"Commander Shepard is quite literate –,"

"Joking, EDI,"

He couldn't help feeling a little disappointed though. He and Shepard went back years, even before he'd been accepted into the Academy. Shepard had never failed to wish him a happy birthday, except for the years when he was dead. Shepard was the kind of guy who'd never miss big days for his friends. He'd even taken a leave of absence to attend Joker's graduation from flight school. Still, the man had a lot on his plate. If the Reapers had their way, birthdays were kind of a moot point anyway.

Joker reached for his mic controls, and his voice rang from the ship's intercom, "Hey Tali, can you come to the bridge for a sec? I want to talk to you face to face. Or…helmet to face…or whatever…. And bring coffee," he added after a moment.

Moments later she was striding down the corridor, the smell of coolant from the ship's diffuse radiator arrays wafting off her suit. Joker had always really liked Tali, mostly because they both shared a passion. Human pilots were always taught that they were responsible for more than just flying the ship. Ultimately, they were responsible for every system of the ship, from engines, to weapons, to life support. Pilots were expected to understand the ins and outs of each craft they crewed. So, naturally, conversation came easily with the brilliant young Quarian. Tali could pretty much build a ship from the ground up. Together, they formed an unbelievable team, turning what already was the most advanced ship in the galaxy into a machine of unlimited power and unmatched ability.

"Hiya helmet head," said Joker as Tali lowered herself into the gunnery officer's seat in the cockpit. Tali smiled. As much as she hated her suit, she couldn't help but smile at the cocky pilot's puns. She sighed.

"Hi Joker, what can I do for you?" she said, handing him a steaming mug.

"Ah come on, you can't just go right into it! You gotta _ease_ into things. Set the mood first," Joker said, "Remember that next time you're upstairs…"

"Joker!" she said, relieved he couldn't see her face redden.

Joker smirked as he turned back to his display. "When I was pulling into our dock I noticed a little bit of yaw. I ran diagnostics on the trim stabilizers, but it all came back green. Any ideas?"

Tali hadn't felt it. Most likely, nobody on board had. But she knew far better than to discount his claim. Joker could practically fly through the most densely packed asteroid field in the galaxy on feel alone. Once, on the old Normandy only just after she came aboard, Joker had complained that he felt a shudder in his controls as the decelerated below FTL speeds. He put in a maintenance request with Pressly, but the XO, convinced it was the pilot's attempt at some kind of prank, ignored it. He was sure the Alliance wouldn't want to devote maintenance hours to a pilot's "ghost" shudders anyway. The first time Joker ever spoke to Tali was to ask her to investigate the source of that tremor. It was lucky he did. Turned out the actuators that controlled one of the thrust vectoring engine pylons had worn down. Had it gone any farther, the entire engine mount could have jammed, hindering maneuverability and power. In combat, it could have spelled death for the entire crew. She'd found it and fixed it, and immediately jumped into Joker's good books. It didn't hurt that it gave Joker the ability to rub it Pressly's face in it for the next three months.

Her brain sifted through a dozen possible causes. "My guess is that the stabilizers have an electrical problem. Either that or the vectoring nozzles aren't angling the thrust correctly."

"Electrical issues would have shown up on the diagnostics. You might be right about the nozzles though"

"Whatever it is, I'll check it out," Tali said.

"You're the best Tali, honest, if I could actually see your face I'd totally give you a big wet kiss."

"Careful," Tali warned, "EDI might get jealous and quarantine the bridge."

"Wow Tali, that hurt," Joker said, feigning a pained expression and mumbling something about liking a robot, "Your sense of humor may yet have a hope."

Tali rose from the chair and headed back to the elevator. As she left, Joker turned in his chair.

"None of the crew has any big days coming up, do they? Birthdays, drug rehab graduation, headbutting rites, anything?"

"Not that I know of," said Tali, perplexed, "Why?"

"Curious. Making sure I don't have to send Jack a happy sober-for-a-month card"

"The shore party is aboard," announced EDI, "Executive Officer Lawson is relieved."

Alan Shepard strode through the airlock, garbed in his formal attire and with a burly Alliance marine in tow behind him. He'd wanted to put the best foot forward in his final attempt to sway the Council into action. His injuries from his detainment in the Bahak system were still evident. Bruises wringed his wrists from where he'd been restrained and a nasty burn was raw on his neck where a round had impacted the collar of his armor.

"How'd it go, commander?" Joker shouted from his chair where he was watching the latest vid of the hit asari soap opera, _Shades of Blue_, "Council still have their feet stuck in elcor shit?"

Shepard grimaced, and nodded. "They won't see sense. Even with Anderson there, it was pointle – ,"

"Sorry, Commander," Joker interjected suddenly. He whipped around to face his screen, "I _told_ you she was cheating on you with that krogan, I _told_ you!" he shouted at the display. "Sorry, I'm all ears Commander. Full and undivided attention. Commence complaining,"

Shepard shook his head, smiling. "Just more of the same. I'd hoped to have them see sense before we head back to Earth. Looks like that won't happen."

"Whatever, I'll just come save their ass again when they find themselves up shit-creek without a paddle."

Shepard gave a forced chuckle, "Its gonna happen sooner or later."

"Yeah, well here's hoping they hold off at _least_ until my next episode comes out. Now. Who, may I ask, is the gorilla behind you?"

"This," Shepard smirked, as if amused, "Is Lieutenant James Vega. It would appear that Udina didn't trust me to go back to Earth on my own. It appears I've been arrested, and Lieutenant Vega here is now acting commanding the Normandy, which has been officially commandeered by the Alliance Navy, and all things are now right in the world."

Eyes twinkling, Joker reached for the intercom, and with a beep, his voice flooded through the ship. "Crew of the Normandy, I bring you good news! The days of tyranny and oppression are over! Shepard's reign of terror has ended! No more shall we throw ourselves into the open hands of certain death! Party in the mess hall! Unlimited naps! Movies in the conference room! Every man for himself in the captain's cabin, but I call the space hamster! We are free at last!

Laughs echoed up the CIC as the crew chuckled at the announcement, and Joker released the intercom switch. "Well commander, looks like the right hand of the law has struck you down, my friend." He turned to the Lieutenant, clearly uncomfortable with his new assignment. "Alright, Las Vegas. Or maybe I'll call you Veggies. Give us your orders. If you want to lock the Commander in the Brig, it's down the stairs from the engineering level. Be sure to announce yourself nice and loudly, and turn on all the lights. And under no circumstances be alarmed if you are verbally or physically attacked by skinny, bald, half-naked women."

Vega opened and closed his mouth several times, and glanced nervously at Shepard, who only smiled back. "Er…right. You must be Joker. I won't presume to put Commander Shepard in the brig. But I do have orders from both Admiral Anderson and Councilor Udina to make sure this ship gets to Earth within three days, and I'd certainly rather avoid getting into any messes along the way. So Lieutenant Moreau, if you please, begin departure procedures and chart a course for Earth. I'd like the crew to assemble to be inspected and briefed…and…well that's it," he ended lamely.

Joker smiled at Vega for several long seconds as the Marine, awkwardly stood in the hallway, his imposing mass doing little to add weight to his words. Nobody moved.

"Well that was just lovely Veggies. An excellent plan of action. We'll get right on that. Commander, anything to add?"

Shepard smiled at Joker, "Nope, I'd do as the Lieutenant said. Call for a general assembly in the hangar bay. We'll want the crew to meet their new commander."

Vega headed for the elevator, but Shepard hung back and said softly to Joker, "Cut him some slack…he's just doing his job."

"I'll consider it," Joker replied, smirking, "But don't expect me to get all buddy-buddy with him. I think a handshake from him would probably disintegrate the bones in my hand, anyway."

Shepard reached over and flicked the controls for the cargo bay door. It had been quite some time since they'd reached a port with the logistic capabilities of the Citadel. Mordin alone had filed over 150 requisition orders for lab materials in the time they'd been away from civilized space. There was a hiss as the pressure equalized, and the telltale rumble of the massive door opening to permit two supply massive barges laden with hundreds of pounds of food, water, medical supplies, spare parts, science equipment, and personal effects bought by the crew, who'd been given their first shore leave in over six months.

It was a sticky situation, having openly told the Illusive Man to shove it while still aboard a ship with a crew that proudly wore the Cerberus logo on their shoulders. And now with the ship transferring to Alliance hands, many of the Cerberus crew would now be tried in Alliance court. Joker had his own concerns about the possible repercussions of joining Cerberus. He'd taken his honorable discharge as soon as he could after being grounded, and immediately been picked up by a Cerberus recruiter. But while joining up with a terrorist organization and turning himself in could have some serious implications, he wasn't about to jump ship and bail on Shepard. Even more importantly, he wasn't going to give his pilot's seat to anyone else while he still had the ability to fly. This was _his_ ship.

The crew assembled in the cargo bay thirty minutes later, amongst crates and crates of fresh supplies. Joker sat off to the side of the group off to the side to be able to observe the crew as Shepard addressed them and said his goodbyes.

"Listen up," he said, his presence drawing all eyes to him, "as you all know, this ship – this crew, no longer answers to Cerberus. We come here not solely for the advancement of humankind, but for all life in the galaxy. We have gone through hell, and come back victorious. The strength of our team, our heart, our talent, and our determination to never back down allowed us to accomplish the impossible. I couldn't be more proud of you, and couldn't be more honored to call you my friends."

But now, it's time for some of us to part ways. I have been called upon to answer for my actions in the Bahak system, and this ship is being commandeered by the Alliance. But I don't see any reason for you to come back and face the accusations of the people you have saved. If you face charges from the Alliance for joining Cerberus, I encourage you to leave us while we here on the Citadel. If you do not, and wish to rejoin the Alliance or disembark at Earth, you may continue on with us. Those who depart here will be given enough credits to stay here until you can arrange transportation or find work elsewhere. Thank you again from the bottom of my heart for what you've done for humanity, what you've done for each other, and what you've done for me"

Joker sat at the bridge, computing relay jump vectors as one by one crewmembers departed through the Normandy's airlock.

"Jeff, would you come down to the med bay? I'd like to try a couple of new physical therapy techniques that I've recently learned about," Doctor Chakwas' classy English accent came over the comm.

"Yes, mom, be right down."

It was rare that Joker left his precious chair. Sergeant Gardner had sent most of his meals to the cockpit, and half the time he even slept there, extending the back of his chair and using EDI as his alarm clock. But Chakwas was the surrogate mom on the Normandy, and had been helping him with his condition since before his assignment on the original Normandy, back when he was serving on the Leyte Gulf, a frigate from the Third Fleet. Ever since they met, she'd taken him under her medical wing. Although she had a vested interest in his condition, she'd become more to him than just his doctor and physical therapist, and he'd grown to be much more than a patient. As their friendship grew, they came to rely on each other for a sense of continuity, as life aboard a naval vessel inherently involved change. She was one of the few people who Joker's sarcastic tongue rarely touched, and apart from Shepard, was Joker's longest friend. Nevertheless, she always had a bit of a mother's attitude toward her young patient, and although he hated leaving his chair, he didn't dare ignore her summons.

Joker made his way through the CIC to the elevator. Recent medical advancements and several surgeries had made it easier for him to get around on his own. He could even almost stand upright, and he no longer feared that he'd break a bone if he fell. He remembered all too well having to use crutches and wheelchairs. He didn't miss those days.

As he traversed the decks of his ship, the eerily empty rooms unnerved him. The research lab was neat and tidy but contained no Mordin, who had departed to meet up with an STG unit currently on board the Citadel. Jacob and Miranda had also parted, as turning themselves over to the Alliance meant serious charges being brought against them. Grunt had caught a flight to Tuchanka with some Urdnot clan Krogan who were answering Wrex's call to return home. After a very solemn (and to Joker's mind, overly wordy) proclamation with lots of biotic flaring, Samara ended her vow to Shepard and departed the ship. Jack left the ship quickly after giving Shepard a friendly punch in the shoulder and "see ya around, fucker," while Kasumi and Zaeed left together with the apparent intent to see if they could gain access to the Spectre offices to pilfer some weapons and, so they claimed, add their names to the Spectre list. And Thane, well, nobody saw Thane after they had left the hangar, and his room had been devoid of any trace that someone had lived there for over a year with the exception of a brief thank-you note addressed to Shepard. Joker asked EDI if she saw him slip out on her surveillance cameras, but she reported that he was not observed leaving the ship. Joker felt slightly violated that a person could come and go on his ship as they pleased, but Thane seemed like a decent fellow, for a master assassin. In the end, the ship was gloomy, quiet, and cold, and his footsteps echoed on the brushed metal floors as he made his way through his ship.

The door opened to the crew's deck and he ambled out of the elevator and headed for the medical bay, ignoring the surprised eyes of remaining crewmembers who rarely saw him anywhere other than the bridge. The door opened and he almost toppled over in shock.

"Surprise!" chorused his closest friends. Shepard, Chakwas, Tali, and Garrus stood in the medical wing with smiles on their faces, and a small chocolate cake sat on Chakwas' desk. He stood there stunned for only a split second before his wits came back to him.

"Be warned. If you guys sing to me, I'll be forced to join in. And trust me, you don't want that," he said, smiling as he scooped some frosting onto his finger. "Did Gardner make this? Because it seems far too…what's the word…good?"

"Nope, picked it up on my way back from the Tower," Shepard said, handing him a fork. "Don't get used to it, we all might not be around long enough to have another one."

"Don't I know it," Joker replied, "but trust me, I have every intention of you getting me another one of these this time next year."

He was surprised but pleased that his alien friends hadn't departed yet, and even more happy that they had stuck around to celebrate his birthday. Garrus pointed out that the Alliance had little disciplinary authority when it came to other races, and when they reached Earth they would most likely simply get interrogated and then released or shipped back to their homeworlds. They were determined to stand by Shepard for as long as they could until he faced his Alliance tribunal, and if possible, testify on his behalf.

After the cake, Shepard produced some beers (including, to their delight, a few dextro-amino acid brews for Garrus and Tali) and they drank them down. Dr. Chakwas poured herself a glass of brandy and she sipped its contents as they chatted and relaxed. For a time, they were able to forget the impending trials.

Outside the medical bay, the ship became quiet and still as the crew left. Many came by the med bay to wish Joker a happy birthday and say their goodbyes. As the last of the crew left, Vega remained in the mess hall, anxiously pacing around the empty hallways and clearly eager to get underway.

"I guess I gotta head upstairs," Joker said, "Thanks, guys. Let's do this again, if we're all still here in a year."

Tali and Garrus headed back to their stations, again wishing Joker a happy birthday as they left. Joker turned to head to the elevator.

"Hold on a second, Joker," said Shepard, "I have something for you." He rummaged in the pockets of his uniform, and pulled out a small picture in a light wooden frame. "I know your copy was lost when the original Normandy went down. I got Liara to do some digging and she found the original in the old Academy archives. Joker grasped it and turned it over. Two young soldiers smiled up at him from the photo, their Alliance dress blues newly adorned with officer's insignia.

"Good times, huh? We headed off to specialty training a couple days later. God I got so drunk that night," Joker said, memories of their graduation flashing in his mind's eye.

"Yeah. I don't remember anything from about midnight on…. Anyways, I wanted you to have that. Happy Birthday my friend, and I'll do my best to not be dead for the next ones," Shepard smiled.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Joker said, uncommonly sincere, "there's something that's pretty cool about flying your buddy's spaceship."

Although the prospect of returning to Earth held uncertain consequences, spirits were high as the Joker maneuvered the ship out of its berth, and gunned the throttle, hurtling the ship past the massive wards of the Citadel and into the pinkish blue clouds of the Serpent Nebula. The quiet hum of the Tantalus drive was a symphony to his ears. The Normandy became an extension of his body. He was conscious of every movement, the smallest directional corrections as evident to him as the brilliant clouds of gas and dust past which they soared. Switching to manual control, the joystick rose from the right armrest of his chair, while the controls for the four antiproton engines were exposed on his left. He placed his hands on them, feeling the cold black rubber and plastic. His fingers curved perfectly around the stick, falling into their familiar contour. Again he firewalled the throttle and pulled the joystick back, easing his ship into several wide barrel roles. The instruments on his screens danced and flickered as he twisted around again and again, as the brilliant clouds of the nebula spun in the windows. He reveled in the familiar, gentle tug of the inertial change at his insides. He pointed the ship's nose at the Serpent Relay gleaming in the distance.

"The board is green, brace for acceleration," He said into his mic, "Relay jump in T-minus five…four…three…two…one…"

The relay flashed blue-white as it fired, and he was squashed into his seat as the ship entered the wormhole.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

(_14 years ago)_

It was cloudy.

The computers that governed Arcturus' artificial weather system had today decided that the holographic ceiling of the station's main atrium would project a gray overcast sky. The station maintained a day and night cycle that was synchronous with that of the earth, keeping the sleep and waking cycles of its 45,000 inhabitants intact.

Besides the ship hangars, Arcturus' atrium was the largest single room in the station. Along the walls of the hall were six gardens, each containing flora native one of the six continents that were capable of supporting plant growth. In the center of the room was a small, calm reflecting pool. Above the pool hovered a globe of the Earth, made of brushed steel. The outlines of the continents, oceans, and islands of Earth dotted its surface. Held in place by an array of magnets from beneath the pool, it hung inches off the surface of the water, rotating slowly. At the far end of the room was a semicircular platform of steel and marble, raised from the main floor by three steps that ran the length of the stage. Three large doors in the back and sides of the wall remained open, allowing the free passage of men and materials through the room. Fans concealed in the walls and ceiling kept a light air current moving through the room, keeping the air fresh and fluid. On regular days, the hall served as a park, with tables and benches where the station's inhabitants could relax or gather to work on their many tasks in areas other than their designated work spaces. Often, vendors sold their goods to the members of the Alliance Military and Parliament. On special occasions, the room was used for parliament conferences, military ceremonies, and sometimes even for concerts given pro bono by some of Earth's hottest celebrity musicians. And each year, this room was the site of the graduation from the Systems Alliance Academy. The graduates traveled from the main academy complex on Terra Nova to the Alliance headquarters where they would graduate in front of Humanity's leaders. The platform at the head of the room was adorned with the blue, white, and silver banners of the Alliance, and rows upon rows of chairs lined the steel floor. Academy graduates, parliament delegates, families, leaders and dignitaries of Earth's nations, high ranking military officials, and other people of importance descended upon the station for the ceremony, ready to send forth the next batch of officers into the Systems Alliance's ranks.

The Systems Alliance Academy on Terra Nova was the first and only truly international military academy in human history. In addition to being a premier academic university that gave students the ability to study anything from molecular genetics to music performance to military tactics, students also underwent rigorous military training that incorporated techniques and learning styles refined and perfected from the standing armies, navies, and air forces of Earth's nations. The academy accepted students from all across the Earth and human colonies, and improving relations with other races had led to student exchange programs with educational institutions from many different galactic civilizations. Tomorrow was the students' graduation, where they would be given their officer's insignia. According to their specialty, the newly instated officers would be assigned to positions throughout the Alliance, beginning their career among the hundreds of thousands of men and women representing humanity throughout the wider galaxy.

The _SSV Einstein_ of the second fleet arrived through the nearby relay and joined the host of Alliance ships that were orbiting Themus, the planet around which Arcturus circled. Military ships and civilian transports had arrived in huge numbers, bringing the many guests to the graduation ceremony. A shuttle exited the carrier's hangar and sped towards the giant station. As it passed into one of Arcturus' hangar bays, a tall, balding man with a salt and pepper goatee stood behind a sixteen year old boy, his hand rested on the boy's shoulder. The boy was tall for his age, but skinny, with shaggy dark hair that fell unkempt over his ears and neck and eyes of shocking green. It was clear, however, that the boy was stronger than he appeared, the definition of his athletic build apparent under his civilian clothes. He smiled, eagerly awaiting the shuttle's passenger.

The executive officer of the _Einstein _stepped off the shuttle and smiled at her son who sprang into her arms.

"Hi Alan," whispered Commander Hannah Shepard into his ear.

Her husband followed his son and kissed his wife.

"Hello Doctor," she said lovingly, "how were your students this semester?"

"Good for the most part. Had a couple students drop out of my particle physics class, but I also had some really bright kids," Dr. Thomas Shepard embraced his wife again. "It's so good to see you honey, I've missed you."

"Just a couple more months until my deployment is finished. Alan will be out of school and we can visit the Mediterranean for our vacation. I'm so happy I was invited to the graduation and am able to see you and Alan."

"After fifteen years of teaching I sure hope I'd be able to get my wife an invitation to speak at the academy's graduation!"

"Mom," Alan piped up eagerly, "The R&R center on level three installed some new simulators last month. Want to go check them out?"

"Sure kiddo, lets head by our room so I can drop my things off alright?"

The Shepards headed for one of Arcturus' three hotels, in which Alan's father had managed to reserve a room. Between the combined string pulling of the academy professor and the Alliance commander, they had managed to reserve a small room several months ago. Although Arcturus was a military installation, it still functioned on the level of a full scale city. From hotels to movie theaters to gymnasiums, the Alliance made sure that the station's inhabitants received appropriate rest and relaxation during their time on the station, and that visitors to the station were able to live in comfort. Graduation, however, presented a difficult situation for the Arcturus management. The two hotels on the station were reserved many months in advance by national leaders and military brass. However, the massive influx of people during graduation week was far too much for the normal Arcturus accommodations could handle. In the week before the Academy's graduation saw a massive overhaul of one of the station's five major hangars. The hangar was converted into quarters for families, Academy professors, and other graduation attendees who were not able to obtain quarters aboard the military and transport vessels on which they arrived. It was a feat of logistical genius. Maintenance crews erected eight floors of temporary compartmentalized rooms in the weeks before the commencement ceremony. They were far from luxurious, furnished with small barracks-style beds, a tiny refrigerator, and a desk. Residents had to use communal bathrooms and were nowhere near any of the cooking facilities. But the provisional accommodations nearly doubled the visiting capacity of the station, allowing families, friends, and other graduation attendees to witness the ceremony.

The hotels, by comparison, were high quality accommodations designed to house the many civilian contractors, intelligence analysts, national leaders of earth, and alien ambassadors and diplomats that frequented the Systems Alliance headquarters. Hannah Shepard dropped her bags on one of the beds in the room and changed into her civilian clothes, letting her deep auburn hair fall below her shoulders. Although she was approaching her forties, she still had the ability to turn heads. She had a fire about her – a sense of charisma that inspired the loyalty of her comrades. She was a talented officer and leader and had earned the respect of superiors and subordinates alike. It was a trait she took every chance to teach her only child.

Five kilometers in diameter, the station was essentially a giant quartered ring. Most of Arcturus' activity was located in the ring itself. Inside the station, the floors were arranged so that the ceiling was directed towards the center of the ring, and the station spun at a rate that caused the centrifugal forces to act as a surrogate for gravity. The massive structures that quartered the ring ran straight across the station, connecting the opposite ends of the ring. At the center resided the zero gravity laboratories, zero gravity training facilities, and storage areas.

Through the station ran a transit system, quite similar to the subway of a major city. Magnetics guided the monorail train as it slid smoothly through the station's tunnels, shipping people and materials around the fifteen kilometer circumference of the station's ring.

Alan Shepard's father stayed in the hotel room, needing the opportunity to finish correcting his students' final exams. Hannah and her son left for the Arcturus rec center. It was a ten minute walk to the nearest station followed by a short stint on the transit train.

Alan relished the time alone with his mom. He spent most of his time at a private school on Mindoir, and although he enjoyed his time at school with his friends, he equally enjoyed his time in space with his family. He pressed his mother for stories of her deployment, and she told him of joint turian and human training missions, peacekeeping sorties over the krogan DMZ, and raids on pirate strongholds in the Skyllian Verge. She in turn listened as he talked about his teachers and friends at school and his youthful adventures in the Mindoiran city of New Boston. She smiled as he spoke of his success on the school football, swimming, and baseball teams and his efforts to keep his seventh spot from the top of his class of nearly six hundred.

It bothered Hannah Shepard that she could not always be there for her son. Her deployments sometimes lasted for up to a year, and although she would still be able to return to their home on Terra Nova for several months, Alan's time at school restricted the amount of time they could spend together during her shore leave. She loved her career, but she desired more time with her son. Despite her frequent absence, however, mother and son shared a close bond. In many ways Alan was closer to her than his father, and certainly had inherited more of her traits of leadership and a thirst for adventure. From a young age he had daydreamed of accompanying his mother on her adventures into the frontiers of space, and had decided that in his senior year he would be applying to the Systems Alliance Academy for his continuing education. It was a choice that his parents applauded.

They strode through the corridors that led to the rec center, a place frequented by many of the station's inhabitants. This complex was much more than a gymnasium and weight room. It was the place on the station for inhabitants to unwind and relax. It boasted a climbing wall, bowling alley, movie theater, opera house, firing range, swimming pool, and fitness center. But the bit that Alan was interested in was the simulators. These were not video games, but fully functioning interceptor cockpits on hydraulic actuators, which allowed their novice pilots to feel as though they were actually in the midst of a battle. They were also a very successful recruiting tool for the Navy. Three hundred and sixty degree screens allowed the pilot to completely immerse themselves in the simulated mission. Six cockpits allowed their pilots to pit their skills against their adversaries, every man for himself. Once a victor was apparent, six new prospects would clamber into the open seats, ready to take on the next of a series of simulated combat scenarios. The wait was almost always longer than half an hour.

Mother and son stood in the queue chatting and catching up. Eventually they found themselves near the front of the line, watching the six simulator cockpits pitch and roll as their pilots threw themselves at the controls.

Alan surveyed his competition. His mother would be the obvious challenge, but he had spent enough time in these simulators over the past few days that he was confident that he could beat her. Also in line were two off-shift maintenance crew members, a kid barely keeping himself up on a pair of crutches, and a pudgy kid with greasy hair.

Piece of cake, Alan thought to himself as his round began. He clambered into the cockpit and strapped himself into the chair. The screen in front of him showed a solitary space station floating among specks of stars. The simulator's speakers counted down the seconds to the start of combat.

The timer reached zero and he gunned the throttle, jerked in his seat by the motion of the simulator. He looked at his instruments and found the five heat signatures that identified his adversaries. His interceptor came equipped with four torpedoes and an upgraded GAURDIAN laser system that was currently being installed on Navy ships. He pointed his ship at the spacecraft closest to him and started targeting.

Already a ship was gone, perhaps the earliest he'd ever seen a ship go down. Pondering which of his adversaries had fallen first, he let loose his first torpedo. He watched as it surged forward on the screen, its blue-white antiproton drive dwindling on the screen. He turned away from the missile as it tracked towards its target. As he searched for his next victim, he tracked its progress on his instruments. He smiled as his instruments signaled destruction of his target. His craft rocked as he rolled it around to bring it to bear on another foe.

Again he locked onto his target and let loose a torpedo, but before it impacted, the target disappeared, a brilliant flash of and imploding eezo drive on his screen told him it had been destroyed. He grimaced at the waste of his munitions, and began scanning his LADAR readouts for his next quarry.

He was interrupted by an emergency tone coming from his cockpit's speakers. Closing fast was a torpedo, homing in on his heat signature. He jerked the stick back and to the right, throwing his fighter away from the threat, hoping to shake the rapidly moving missile from his tail. The aft laser turret of his ship began to fire, its invisible pulses of powerful energy cutting through the vacuum of space in an effort to counter the threat bearing down on him. More and more frantically he turned his ship, trying to evade the torpedo behind him, and his lasers finally found the torpedo, cutting through its cylindrical form and rendering it to scrap.

In the meantime two more interceptors were no more, leaving him against the remaining ship. _Alright mom, time to dance,_ he growled to himself, beads of sweat starting to run from his brow. He glanced at his scanners again, picking up his remaining opponent. The ship was screaming towards him from his starboard side, and he pitched down and left, trying to evade his pursuer. It was now a game of cat and mouse. He weaved back and forth, staying clear of the simulated space stations supports, waiting for the tone that warned him of a torpedo that was coming his way. None came. Only then did he realize that his foe must have already released his four torpedoes. He grinned devilishly, knowing he'd all but won the simulated knife fight encounter. His enemy would only be able to engage him with his lasers, while he still possessed two very deadly torpedoes. It was nearly impossible for him to lose.

Time to go on the offensive. He pulled the stick quickly, making a sharp turn to throw off the craft tailing him. To his pleasure, the other pilot barely reacted, and Alan was able to easily slip his interceptor behind his opponent, releasing a second torpedo as he did so.

But no sooner was the torpedo away did his prey pull a turn that he thought would shear the craft in two. The interceptor turned one hundred and eighty degrees, torpedo on its tail, and in an instant was hurtling straight back at his own craft. He turned out of the way as his adversary flew by, peppering Alan's ship with laser fire which set off damage warnings in his cockpit. As his torpedo screamed past, hot on the tail of his foe, laser fire ripped through it as well. Stunned by his mother's piloting skills, he released his final torpedo, confident that it would be the killshot.

His quarry made a beeline for the virtual space station, and began weaving through its many towers and communications arrays. The missile followed through the maze, but struck a tower on the station, exploding harmlessly against the space station's outer shell. It was now lasers versus lasers, and Alan had to admit, the skill exhibited by his mother would be difficult to match.

But Alan fell again in behind his quarry, sweating in earnest now in his attempt to stay on the tail of the interceptor in front of him. His targeting system would let out a peal of sound and he would squeeze laser's trigger. Yet every time his opposing pilot would veer his craft out of the line of fire and it was all Alan could do to keep up. After several opportunities, Alan began to realize that this pilot was not his mother. This pilot was teasing him, leading him on, willing him to squeeze the trigger just to see him fail again. Try as he might, he could not lay a hit on this pilot.

Alan was incredibly competitive, almost to a fault, a trait exacerbated by success in athletics and academics. It perturbed him to see someone more talented. So he threw himself at the controls of his craft, gritting his teeth and breathing hard, trying to sink a laser burst into the hull of his foe. He didn't succeed. Before long his foe's fighter was behind his own, and as he pulled and pushed at the controls with all his might, he couldn't shake he ship behind him, which followed him as easily if they'd been going for a casual joy ride. It was a matter of seconds before his dash lit up with damage reports, and the simulation ended as his craft was ripped to pieces by laser fire.

For a moment, he sat, stunned, as the cockpit opened flooding with light from the outside. He had lost even with the advantage of having two extra torpedoes. His ego was crushed, his morale dwindling as he looked at the sortie summary. The pilot that killed him had killed three other ships, each with a torpedo. His fourth torpedo was the one Alan had destroyed, but in the end it didn't even matter. He racked his brain to figure out which of his opponents had won the simulation.

From one of the other simulators came a voice that cracked and wavered in its pubescent shout.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you very much. Please no pictures, no autographs, I'll be in town all weekend."

Rising from his cockpit was the skinny kid on crutches, his voice cracking as he bowed low, grinning from ear to ear. The braces on his legs clinked softly as he awkwardly clambered down from the cockpit.

Hannah Shepard came up behind her son. "He is good. Really good. Got me within the first five minutes," she said, eyeing the boy as he gimped away, still tipping his cap and grinning at everyone he walked past, "mark my words he's going to be something special someday,"

Alan grunted a halfhearted affirmation. He hated to lose to anyone, nevermind some cocky-ass cripple. Hobbling away, the skinny pilot prodigy glanced over his shoulder and gave him an exaggerated wink. Alan gritted his teeth and shot back a glare that could have rivaled his mother's.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

Alan sulked as they turned the corridor leading to the transit system. Glowing transit signs alerted them to the trains arriving and departing from the station. Humans and aliens alike bustled through the hub, busy with parliament or military business. A couple of military policemen assisted a confused human couple who were undoubtedly here for tomorrow's graduation.

He was frustrated. And shocked. He had underestimated the kid on crutches so completely, he hadn't even given remotely considered the kid on crutches the winner of their sortie. The fact that his mom was impressed by the kid made it worse.

His mother gave him a look over. "Buck up kiddo, you did just fine," she said, placing a hand on your shoulder, "you lasted longer than I did, and I've been flying real spacecraft for fifteen years now.

He replied with a grunt.

"So learn from this, Alan," she replied, looking him in the eye. "Never ever underestimate your opponent. Always assume they are better than you are. Always assume you are the underdog. That way, you'll never find yourself up the wall unexpectedly."

"Doesn't mean I'll never be up against the wall."

"True, but at least you'll have seen it coming. And that can make all the difference in the world."

Hannah yawned, the exhaustion from her trip catching up with her. It had been nearly twenty hours since she last slept, as preparations for her carrier's arrival at Arcturus had consumed her time. She motioned for her son to follow her, and they headed for their hotel.

It was late, and the crowds had thinned greatly since the end of the work day. Holographic signs flashed everything from Alliance news, to advertisements, to directions to other nearby locations on the station. They walked past an Alliance base exchange store, where workers were restocking diploma frames and Academy memorabilia. In addition, new officer's insignia had arrived on transports, ready to be pinned on their new owners' lapels. Alan imagined himself in the dark blue uniforms, trimmed with gold. Perhaps someday, he thought to himself.

A short monorail ride later they left the transit tubes and proceeded towards their hotel for the evening. As they continued past a small dark maintenance corridor they heard a muted grunt. Three humans were standing around a small turian male, shoving him and cursing at him. Immediately Hannah Shepard changed. She was suddenly taller, stronger, and a fire lit in her eyes. In an instant she went from loving mother to Alliance officer, and strode down the side corridor at such a pace that Alan had to jog a couple steps to keep up. One of the humans saw her coming and turned to face her.

"Stay here Alan," she said, and proceeded down the corridor. Disregarding his mother's instruction, he followed behind her.

"Back off, lady, this doesn't concern you," the man said aggressively.

Alan glanced at the shoulders of the men and saw the insignia of a private military company on their sleeves. They were likely at Arcturus accompanying one of their company superiors as he met with Alliance command. He looked at the turian, hands bound, leaning against the wall. His eye was clearly bruised and dark blue blood dripped from his rough beak. One of the three crests on his head seemed broken out of line

"What is going on here," said the Commander menacingly.

"This alien was following our boss," said one of the men in a thick German accent, "he was a clear security threat. We brought it out here for questioning. Go away and mind your own business."

"I am an Alliance commander and I don't give a damn whose business it is. You're under arrest for assault and battery against an unarmed victim. Release the turian, turn to face the wall and put your hands against the wall where I can see them."

"We don't report to you," said the second thug, "you have no authority here."

"This is an Alliance Station and you are in violation of its laws, not to mention several Citadel mandates," the Commander said, her omni-tool flickering to life with a beep. She punched a few buttons on its holographic interface. "Threats to security are handled by station MPs, not by marine wannabes who'll take any excuse to beat the pulp out of an alien. The Arcturus Military Police will be here momentarily to secure this area. I suggest you comply before this situation gets worse for you." She said the words with such force that a couple of the men seemed to falter for a moment. Her anger blazed from her every word, but her composure was steady. She knew the risks of going up against three burly men. But she also believed to her core that these racist bastards could not get away with such a display of unprovoked cruelty. These were the type of people that gave humans a bad rap in the galaxy.

"You damn bitch, you'd better not make that call" the second man snarled, "You're going to learn not to mess with other people's business." With a beefy harm he violently reached for her omni-tool arm in an attempt to prevent the call.

Like lightning, Hannah Shepard turned aside the man's muscular arm and in the same fluid motion sank a fist into his sternum. His comrades gave a startled shout and scrambled to his aid as she dispatched the thug with a swift knee to the crotch. The other two men bore down on her, and Alan watched as her small fist connected with the man's jaw, sending him backwards. The turian stuck out his taloned foot and the man toppled over it. Alan heard a dull thunk as the man's head hit the cold metal floor, and he screamed as his crimson blood spilled from the gash on his cranium. Commander Shepard turned to face her third adversary, the biggest of the three men. Her right hook was turned aside by the man's massive forearm and he drew his right fist back.

Alan sprang forward; his athletic form propelling him toward the man with uncanny speed and power. The star cornerback collided with the man's abdomen, and the two adversaries vaulted backwards onto the ground. Alan's body shook as they impacted the floor, and the man let out a pained gasp. In an instant, Alan was up, his strong muscles moving his wiry frame with stunning speed. He drew his fist back and let it sail into the man's jaw, which gave a crack as several teeth were dislodged from their positions. The thug's eyes rolled back in his head and he was still, knocked unconscious by the sixteen year old.

Alan rose, his knuckles already beginning to bruise from where he'd connected with the man's jaw. Five military policemen were hustling up the corridor, flashlights out and omni tools set to stun. The two conscious men lay on the ground it pain as they were turned on their stomachs and handcuffed. The third woke up, looking around in disbelief as he was hauled to his feet and placed in the small electric carts the police used in the station's hallways.

Hannah Shepard was debriefed by the military police and was released. The turian whom they had defended had his injuries treated by the paramedics on the site and then allowed to continue about his business. It turned out that he had been tasked by the turian military to form a business contract with the man that was being escorted by the thugs now on their way to the police station. That opportunity was clearly gone. After being released he approached the commander and her son.

"I appreciate your assistance in this predicament," he said with his head held high. Alan was able observe him in the better light of the main corridor. He was short for a turian, but it was clear that he was more of an intellectual, and carried himself as proudly as any turian Alan had ever seen. Deep red and white paint ran over his brow and eye socket. He spoke English well, no doubt upon Arcturus due to his linguistic prowess. "I am indebted to you. It is good to know that there are humans that have a sense of honor."

"We're glad we could help," the commander replied. She winced as the cuts and bruises on her knuckles were bandaged by one of the officers. "Those men were out of line."

"Indeed," he said, "Our species bear a lingering animosity against one another that impedes what could be a very beneficial partnership. Although I bear no ill will against humanity, there are those in the hierarchy that condemn my very presence on this station. I hope that this incident will yield results more beneficial than detrimental for relations between our species. Again I thank you," he finished, and turned on his heel and strode off.

Hannah Shepard stood silently, face grim. Racism had always plagued humans. Even then, governments of Earth were dogged by the same issues they'd been dealing with for centuries. If anything, this was going to be the human flaw that would eventually drive alien cultures away from them.

As they walked through the station, they came to an observation window that looked out upon the swirling atmosphere of Themis. Hannah Shepard was silent as she gazed upon the vacuum.

Alan looked at the scowl on his mother's face. "What's up, mom?"

She turned to him and looked at him for a moment before speaking. "Alan, men like those guys back there have no place in this modern age. As a species we're capable of such beautiful dreams and such horrible nightmares. We're on the cusp of doing incredible things. But it all means nothing if we can't get along with our neighbors."

She sighed, turning back to the window. "Every race, every alien, every person has something to contribute. The only way we can survive in this galaxy is to understand that. The great things humanity brings to the table can be enhanced even further by working with other species. Hate just makes barriers to progress. Don't let yourself ever be blinded by that. Everyone has something to offer."

She leaned against and closed her eyes as the station whipped through the vastness of space.

Alan sat in the main hall next to his father, who was garbed in the military uniform of academy professors. In another section to the left of the stage sat his mother in her dress blues, her commander insignia gleaming on her epaulets. Around her were the officers from many other alliance ships. The cadets of the Academy were dressed in their student uniforms, all looking nervous, yet excited, snapping pictures of each other with their omni tools. The stage was covered in white flora, and the Alliance banners of deep blue and white were suspended above the podium.

Some alliance brass was introducing the next speaker, a leader from the United Russian Republic. Alan wasn't listening, but was instead fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. His mind had drifted off a long time ago, somewhere around the start of the awards. His eyes began to droop and his chin fell to his chest…

"…and we welcome to the stage, executive officer of the Alliance's newest carrier, SSV Albert Einstein, Commander Hannah Shepard who will be presenting the award for Excellence in Physics and Mass Effect Studies."

Alan's head snapped up, the dream about playing soccer against a team of elcor drifting slowly from his consciousness. It took him a couple seconds to remember where he was before his eyes focused on his mother ascending the stairs to the stage.

"Thank you, professor," the commander began, "Albert Einstein's theories gave humanity the capability to send our people into the stars. This recipient for this award displayed exceptional aptitude for physics, attained a 4.0 GPA for his Academy career, and worked hand in hand with researchers and engineers to develop a new artificial gravity system that will be implemented in new Alliance warships. In addition to this cadet's many achievements, he will begin his service in the Alliance research facility on Eden Prime researching mass effect theory. This award goes to…Alexander Moreau!"

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a spindly kid with braces on his legs jump up from his seat and clap. _That damn kid from the simulators._ A sour expression crossed his face as he glared at his feet and gave a single, callous clap.

"That kid was one of my favorites," his dad beamed next to him, "Nominated him for that award. One of the brightest I've ever taught. He's going places."

"Yep. Eden. Mom just said. Weren't you listening?" Alan grumbled under his breath. His dad was too busy clapping to hear. He glanced over at the kid with the braces again, who was now clearly telling everyone around him that the cadet who was on stage receiving his award was related to him. The kid glanced in Alan's direction and Alan quickly turned away, not before seeing the kid give him a big, flamboyant thumbs up.

They were halfway through the diplomas before Alan's rage had lessened enough for him to start falling asleep again…

As the ceremony ended, the cadets tossed their caps into the air and went to meet their families and friends. Alan stood by his parents as several graduates approached and shook their hands. Eventually Alex Moreau came over with his family in tow.

As graduate and parents thanked Alan's parents, the kid on crutches hobbled over.

"Yanno, I could have put you out of your misery a lot sooner yesterday." The kid smirked as Alan gritted his teeth.

"That's nice." _Don't let him get under your skin._

"Figured I'd let you keep flying around. I didn't want to get out of those simulators too quickly. It's no fun if you only get like two minutes in it."

Alan grunted noncommittally.

"I'll bet that was your first time using the simulators, huh?" he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"No."

"Ahhhhh…sorry man. We can't all be prodigies."

"Oh is that what you are?"

"Well yanno, I try to be humble about it."

"Yeah you sure seem like you work really hard at it."

"It's a personal quality."

Alan gritted his teeth even harder as the kid's eyes twinkled.

"You know, you weren't actually that bad, I'm just giving you a hard time. Not many people last too long in simulators against me…beat a turian pilot once…he was pissed beyond belief. Kept making excuses about human controls not being sensitive enough. I'm Jeff," he said, holding out his hand.

Alan glanced coldly at the hand and reluctantly shook it, caught off guard by the Jeff's sudden offer of friendship.

"Ah careful there, hulk, you might break me," Jeff winced, pulling his hand away. "Brittle bone disease. It's a tad inconvenient. Getting some gene therapy and cyber implants little by little. Should be walking unassisted by the time I get into the academy."

"Sorry," Alan said quickly, feeling suddenly very guilty for his previous anger. "I'm hoping to attend the Academy too after high school."

"Maybe I'll see you there then." The Shepards and Moreaus were wrapping up their conversation. "Look me up if you are back at Arcturus, I'll school you in the sims again. My parents are civilian analysts here on the station so I'm here…pretty much always."

"Ok. Maybe we'll run into each other sometime."

They could hear the faint _ka-thunk_ of ships discharging into Arcturus' hull as the many craft that had been in attendance for the graduation released their static buildup before heading back through the Arcturus relay. Alan and his parents were in the hangar waiting to board shuttles. Commander Shepard was headed back to her carrier, Alan's father was headed to their Terra Nova home, and Alan was headed back to his boarding school on Mindoir for the last few weeks of school.

After they had passed through the heavy military security checkpoints and screening they hugged each other one more time. Soon, they would be able to be back on Terra Nova together. For now though, they all had their responsibilities.

"Take care of yourself, Johnny," they said, we'll see you soon.

"Bye mom, dad," he said back, and headed for the catwalk that led to the transport headed for Mindoir.


End file.
